Void of the Green
by Julyz111
Summary: The summer before 5th year was not a good one. He will probably not survive. He knows blood. he knows pain and broken bones, and he will not fall. Not under Vernon nor under Voldemort. A 5th year AU, Gen so far. There will be Animagus and Sirius.


**Hello to my first story! I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: So I'm not blonde, or fifty, or Rowling soo not mine... nuff said**

Harry woke up feeling cold, clammy and hungry. He blearily gazed at Hedwigs empty cage noticing that it wasn't blurred, he must have gone to bed with his glasses again. Harry wondered what woke him up, It might have been the loose spring that was digging into his hip. He shifted out of the way of the spring and felt his broken ribs grate against each other, he let out a hiss of pain.

_Maybe that was what woke me up _he tought, pondering the idea then dissmisig it _I__´m too used to sleeping with injuries for that _he concluded. So it was something else. Harry slowly looked around the small bedroom taking in the full shelves of broken toys, the shabby dresser, small desk with a small chair finally his gaze shifted to the locked window, for which he didn't have the key to, and there, on the other side of the glass was Hedwig, his snowy owl, with an envelope in her beak.

Harry smiled at the sight, his heart warming a little, he missed her greatly, and then his expression turned sad. ,, I´m sorry, girl I don´t have the key, we have to wait for uncle Vernon to let you in." She looked at him with a solemn expression and pecked the window one last time, before settling down to wait until morning. Harry meanwhile burrowed into the cowers more deeply willing the chill away. He remembers the time almost three weeks ago – on his first day _home _- when uncle Vernon came to his room and announced that he is going to lock his window and check every letter Harry is going to send.

_Harry watched helplessly as his uncle locked his small window – his only contact with the wizarding world – and felt despair and panic welling up inside him. ,, Uncle. Don´t do this." he pleaded, and immediately shrank back a little as the fat man abruptly turned to him,, expecting the blow that came with it. His head snapped to the side. ,, Don´t you speak to me, you freak! You know why I´m doing this as much as I do, I won´t let you endanger my family by writing to that godfather of yours some sob-story! You will learn to do as you´re told or you will regret it! "He then delivered another slap across Harry´s face which this time send the boy barrelling to the wall and Harry was barely able to catch himself from falling. The man´s pig eyes were boring into the smaller body with disgust before he stomped out of the room, slamming and locking the door behind him. Harry stayed leaning against the wall a little longer waiting for the sting in his cheeks to subside, after a moment he pushed himself away and sat heavily on his dingy bed feeling exhaustion creeping up on him. He was already feeling like shite even before coming here, this definitely didn´t brighten his mood and he was sure that it will only get worse. He couldn't wait to see what a wreck he will be going back to Hogwarts for his fifth year._

Pulling his toughs back to present Harry contemplated his earlier thought that it will only get worse. _Oh, how true it was, _he tough to his second day at Privet Drive when he had accidentally spilt tea which he was pouring aunt Petunia. She claimed that he had burnt her hand – a fact he severely doubted since the tea was at best just warm – but it was apparently enough for uncle Vernon to bring out the belt, it was the first day of another summer in hell.

This year's summer was particularly brutal, uncle Vernon needed less reason to bring out the belt and the thought of one can of soup a day seemed a luxury. He could still feel the deep cuts on his back, which got akin to no medical attention and his weight was already in red area even with his slight height, but what was worrying him more than his permanent hunger and burning back was his diminishing energy, the waves of dizziness and nausea that were clear sights of malnourishment.

A shiver ran through him and he pulled the thin cower tighter around his bony shoulders wondering , not for the first time this summer, if he will actually live to attend his fifth year at Hogwarts.

_No _he tough _Voldemort was not able to kill me, I sure as hell will not let the likes of that fat pig off me, even if I had to survive on sheer will. _With somewhatrenewed determination he started drifting to sleep, ignoring the small voice of doubt whispering to him that just will alone might not be enough this time.

...

,, Wake up! Get your lazy arse out of bed and come down!" Aunt Petunia's voice was enough to bring nightmares and waking up from one with it was enough to give him night terrors. Like he didn't have enough of them already. ,, I'm coming!" his voice was rough from sleep and Harry waited a moment for aunt Petunia to clop away before sitting up, only to be overcome by a bout of sickness. He quickly threw his body sideways, away from the bed. It wasn't a good move, as his protesting brain suggested, but rather the water and stomach fluids end up on the floor than on his bed, it's easier to clean them that way. He leaned back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand frowning at the mess. Why was he sick? He couldn't afford to be ill. His condition was bad enough already, if he got ill it will surely kill him!

He quelled the growing sense of dread and forced himself to take a deep breath, it won't help him any if he had a panic attack now. He ignored the painful twinge in his chest and back. He started feeling his forehead gingerly, it was sweaty and his head hurt but he couldn't determine if his forehead was normal or his whole body was too hot. He was feeling hot yet chilli, plus he was sweating like mad. He must have a fever. Maybe he will be able to sneak out some aspirin.

,, Freak!" Harry jerked at his aunt's shriek, then promptly stifled a yelp as his ribs shifted. He stiffly stood on unsteady legs and made his way to the kitchen stumbling and swaying all the way down. Harry tough that he will surely fall down the stairs and was childishly pleased when he finally stumbled down the last step. It was pathetic really, but he had to get every little happiness he could in this place.

The kitchen was as cold and immaculate at it had always been, pictures of Dudley at every wall. Sometimes it was making Harry sick. Today, however, he was more focused on not falling on his face than on the repulsiveness of the Dursley's living quarters. Or on the equal repulsiveness of the whole Little Whinging's, even the name was disgusting. He was snapped from his absentminded musing by aunt Petunia shoving an old pan on him. He obediently started making breakfast, even managing to stuff a piece of stray bacon and egg into his mouth. It was probably all he would get to eat today. It certainly didn't help him much, by the time he finished Harry was feeling so tired and achy all over that he wondered how he was still standing. The dizziness wasn't helping either.

When he made his shaky way to the table he discovered a lumbering, whale like figure sitting behind it. Uncle Vernon was reading a newspaper, his moustache twitching in annoyance over something. Harry made a grimace of displeasure. He hoped to avoid his uncle today for as long as possible, nevertheless he continued his slow way to the table, trying to not look as weak as he felt, and gingerly put the plate of eggs and bacon on the table. The toast was already there. At least Petunia was doing something today.

,, Boy."

Harry grit his teeth at the sound of his uncle's voice. Today was not a lucky day for him, Harry decided as he turned to the man, hoping his trepidation was not showing. ,, Yes, uncle Vernon?" his voice was raspy and quiet. He sounded pathetic, and by the nasty smirk on his uncles face the man tough the same. Bastard. ,, Make sure you do all your chores for today before I come home." The notion that Harry was surprised by the threat was an incorrect one. He was shocked. He expected some kind of death or starvation (not that they were not doing that already) threat, not this warning. Suspicious. And there was a smug undertone to his words that unsettled him. He muttered a quiet affirmative and ducked slowly back to the kitchen heading straight for the counter on which he promptly slumped on.

Everything ached, his muscles, his bones, his head, even his eyes hurt. Merlin, and he was so tired and dizzy. Hunger was something he was accustomed to. At least he was able to think clearly, although a little slower. He put his head in his hands and leaned against them. It didn't help. A deep (and painful) breath later he pushed off of the counter and went looking for the chores list.

He found it right next to the refrigerator and found right away what was wrong with it. It was the way he said _all_ chores. Yesterday his chore list was one full page and he was barely able to complete it. This one was full one and half page longer.

...

Harry must have been staring, wide eyed at the nearly three pages of chores, for at least eight minutes until he had finally snapped out of it. He couldn't let hopelessness overwhelm him, he _had _to last until the end of summer, and then he will be free of them. He let out an unconvincing chuckle and pushing the despair, pain and everything else away from him, folded the pages neatly and stored them in his pant pocket. He did not realize that his hands were shaking.

...

It was as if he was walking in a dream. Everything was hazy and blurred with no clear outlines. His legs were wading through molasses, thick and sticky molasses. He was feeling hot, unfocused and his whole body was being wracked by shivers. The pain was almost secondary.

The fence he was currently repainting (a nice shade of green) looked as if he was doing zig-zag patterns on it. Harry had a fleeting tough that it looked quite original _If only I had any choice what it looked like _he tough bitterly. He was not even trying to paint the fence properly, he knew it was useless uncle Vernon will be home in fifteen minutes and Harry was not even on the half of the second page, he would get the belt whenever he painted it correctly or not.

So he rather decided to sit back and watch leisurely as nice green covered nice white, watched the sun rays play on his not-so-pale-anymore skin listened to birds singing and bees buzzing. In short, he enjoyed his last minutes of _freedom_ without the pain that surely awaited him. And it surely did.

**End of chapter 1.**

**Don't worry, uncle will get punched. **


End file.
